Scotch is Better Than Vodka
by hitagashi
Summary: Ivan and Arthur have an argument over whether or not Scotch is better than Vodka at a meeting. Will be seven chapters with lots of smut.
1. Day 1

**Scotch is Better Than Vodka**

**a Hetalia fan fiction**

**by hitagashi**

_**Summary: Ivan and Arthur have an argument over whether or not Scotch is better than Vodka at a meeting.**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and I make no money off of these writings._

I personally have never been able to decide which is better. I love vodka and scotch pretty much equally. That and I have always wanted to combine them. Always thought it would be good I think. That and... I can see Arthur and Ivan arguing about it in front of everyone.

Enjoy.

V

Alfred walked into the room with a smile on his face, humming a tune by one of his newer bands.

"Vodka is **not** better than scotch you git!" A large book flew passed his head and almost collided with the smiling Russian's face. The smile grew, a taunting expression showing clearly.

"Yes it is. It's much better!" The room was quiet then, for a mere moment before a large bottle crashed into the wall beside the soviet's head. He blinked and looked beside him, frowning at the ruined vodka. "What a waste." Arthur came out of the supply room, eyebrow furrowed in anger as he presented the whole room with a sight of his currently naked chest. When he looked at what they were staring at, he flushed and placed the box he was holding on the table before buttoning up his shirt once more. He looked into his box and pulled out a bottle, smiling broadly at the annoyed Russian.

"**This** is real alcohol." Ivan smiled wide, face stretching as an annoyed tick reached his face. Arthur merely copied the expression, knowing he was wearing on the soviet's thin patience. He saw some of the others glancing pleadingly at him, desperately wanting him to stop but he merely continued, pulling out shot glasses with a triumphant expression on his face. Ivan pulled out a bottle of vodka from his jacket, moving to sit beside the Brit and setting the bottle on the table.

"A contest then?" The blond tilted his head and grinned, snickering at the idea.

"All right. Winner makes the loser do whatever he wants." He looked over at the other as he nodded in agreement.

"For a week." The blond's eyebrows shot up and he blinked at the angry tone laced in the voice.

"Right. As long as it's not... alcohol related." The soviet nodded and both filled a shot glass, grimacing slightly as they drank the other beverage. Arthur felt his nose twitch at the odd taste. Ivan made a displeased face at the foreign flavor of the scotch and then set his glass back down. Francis had moved the other nations away, not knowing when they would start to fel the effect of the drinks.

They went through the first half quickly, neither showing any signs of being affected. Shot after shot being filled and taken in. About three quarters of the way through the bottles, Arthur's cheeks were tinted slightly and he was started to feel somewhat drunk. Ivan grimaced at the feeling in his gut, the foreign drink causing him to feel the beginnings of hunger. He looked over to his drinking partner and grinned, feeling he would win. They continued, finishing off the alcohol quickly. The last shot and Ivan placed his glass calmly on the table, eyes trailing over Arthur's form, the delecate frame and the way he seemed ethereally beautiful in the soft light in the room.

"Okaaaaaaaay. You win." He yawned and collapsed forward, flushed and tired from the feeling of being drunk. The Russian grinned widely, the happy face back on, a seemingly innocent expression. Arthur looked up and glared weakly. "I still don' thin' vodka ish betteeerrr." A deep chuckle greeted him and he barely recognized the feeling of him being lifted. He giggled softly as the warmth coming from the sandy haired male. He nodded at the other countries before leaving, a small tune coming from him.

**--At Ivan's house--**

Arthur woke up slowly, still feeling slightly warm and drunk. He bliked rapidly at the unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up and then shot back under the blankets in search of more warmth. Wherever he was was so cold he could feel it even in his slightly drunk state.

"Ah, you're awake I see." He looked out from his little area under the blankets at the smiling man, noting the distinct lack of his jacket, gloves and shirt. He still wore his pants, boots and scarf but his chest was completely bare. He glared at him with a small chatter of his teeth. The Russian blinked and then grinned, moving over and sitting on the bed. "Come here." He patted his lap and Arthur glanced at him cautiously, unsure if he could trust him. Besides, it was freezing out there. He reached a hand forward, touching the muscular abdomen before drawing back quickly. He made a face and retreated from the man with a glare. The Russian grinned and pulled the blankets away from Arthur, placing them beside him and patting his lap again. The Brit shivered slightly and crawled forward, moving to settle in the cold man's lap. He straddled his waist, pressing close in an attempt to be warm. The soviet pulled blankets over them, wrapping them both in the comfortable heat.

"Wh-Why the hell is it so bloody cold?" Ivan tilted his head with a chuckle, bring the blond closer with a hand to his hip, setting the man's alarms off.

"It's winter in Russia. It will be very cold here..." His face moved close to Arthur's causing the cold one to blush slightly. "It will be very cold here for a very long time now." Lips sealed over his and Arthur felt his eyes widen, fingers closing onto the tan scarf. He could tell he was no longer drunk, he knew that much, the cold had driven it away, but still, he pressed forward, lips moving against the soviet's greedily. He could feel the heat from the other, feel the way his muscles seemed to ripple with delight at this. He parted his lips, somewhat and the Russian took no pause as he pressed his tongue into the pale man's mouth. He tilted his head to the side, pulling on blond hair so that he opened his mouth for him more. He whimpered softly, fingers digging into the scarf ash e was moved to a comfortable position for the larger male. They parted and England panted, blushing at what he had just done.

"I... still say scotch is better than vodka." He felt the heat of something pressed closer to him at that and blushed. He shifted a bit in the muscular man's lap, earning a small grin from him. He felt the blanket falling around him as he tried to get comfortable, deciding that he was fine the way he was when he settled extremely close to the cold man.

"Then I might have to do something drastic, _yes_?" The Brit blinked and was pushed back onto the bed, no longer inside the blankets and being covered by a half naked Russian. He blushed and shifted somewhat before he felt Ivan press his hips forward. He took in a breath of air at the heady feeling, heat pressing against him and pooling in his groin at the sensation. He pressed closer to him, pulling his face close by looping his arms around his neck. He began to pant as he felt Russia's cock strain against his pants when they pressed together. He let out a soft gasp as a large hand undid his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and pushing it off of his chest. He fingers moved quickly over his skin, digging in softly to the skin on his hips when he felt the blond wriggle. He received a small gasp and Arthur arched off the bed somewhat. Ivan moved his fingers lower then, undoing his pants and boxers, sliding them down, feathering his fingers over pale and soft skin. He tossed them away from them, not caring where they landed.

"H-Hey, what are--?" His words were cut off by another kiss, hands pinned to the bed bside his head. He shifted against Russia again and made a keening whine in the back of his throat. Ivan pulled back at that, wondering where it came from. The Brit tugged his arms, trying to move them. "Wanna touch." His words were quiet, pleading, his face deep red as he looked away. Ivan chuckled, the sound cascading over Arthur while his hands were let up. His fingers moved to touch his chest, hands sliding across the expanse of muscle. He was amazed by the way it seemed to quiver under his touch, flexing wherever he touched. He wiggled slightly and moved his hands further, sliding them down his abdomen and up his sides, breath hitching at the feeling of scars. His fingers slid down to his front again before he kissed him, gentle kisses on the corners of his mouth before pressing his lips directly to Ivan's, parting them expectantly and then moaning softly as the other mapped out his mouth, slow, seductive sweeps of his tongue. The soviet knew he was up to something but didn't expect for England to open his pants, sliding his clothes on his lower body down so that he could press his hips up, naked flesh touching as he wrapped his legs around the larger male's waist. His hands slid back up, stopping on his shoulders.

His hips pressed up and he broke from the kiss to moan softly, the sound coming out unbidden. He bit his lip as Ivan trailed his tongue over his neck, nibbling gently at the area just below his jaw. His mouth moved lower, nipping before biting down hard on the area between his shoulder and neck. England tensed up, gasping in pain as blunt teeth sunk in and made him bleed. He felt his eyes open impossibly wide as something large nudged its way inside him. He felt it slide in, his body's attention on the wound on his neck until he was fully seated. He pulled his mouth away, grunting softly as Arthur's nails dug into his shoulders again, leaving scratches on his back. He moaned softly as the soviet pulled out, only to thrust back in quickly, enjoying the feel of the hot passage surrounding him.

"H-harder." His voice shook and he pressed his body down. Ivan grinned, the same dark look he got while killing adorning his face as he sat up, the Brit sliding completely onto him. The blond gasped and tossed his head back, seeming to glow when he let out a long moan. The shirt still on his arms brushed against them where they were joined and caused him to shiver. Russia pulled the smaller arms away so that he could remove the shirt, rolling his eyes when the other removed his scarf weakly.

"_Beautiful__._" His fingers traced patterns on his hips while he pulled him up and pressed him back down. Arthur whinpered softly, leaning in close, face burying in Ivan's neck, fingers scratching softly as he moved himself against the man, gasping somewhat every now and then. The soviet made him move slowly, pleased by the Brit's willing nature to the act. He knew that had he not wanted it, he would have taken him anyway but this... the way he whimpered, the clenching of his muscles as he drove inside of him, the glow his skin produced. All of it was worht going slow. He had seen the Brit become an angel before but he had never been amazed by it. It never seemed all too grand. And yet when the man was in the throes of passion he was more angelic than ever. Arthur made a small whine, distracting him from his thoughts and bringing a grin to his face. He pushed him back, pulling out slightly as he did and then driving back in. He moved faster, forcing the blond into a kiss as he drove deep inside of him. His mouth caught all his sounds but he pulled away briefly to hear what he would do when he began stroking his cock.

"I-Ivan...." His name, whispered so greedily in such a needy voice brought a deep moan from him, the sound echoing softly in the smaller male's ears. He opened his eyes somewhat, breath hitching as he saw the way that normally perfect hair became messy, sweat was barely coating the man's body but it still glistened, shining softly and catching his eyes the most was the faint flush on the soviet's face. He parted his lips and swiped his tongue over tham, absolutely amazed at the effect this had on the usually composed man. He arched up sharply, eyes widening as he lost the will to breathe, fingers digging deep wounds into the broad shoulders. He muttered something in Gaelic before releasing, his seed spurting over his chest.

The Russian hissed softly, fingers tightening on pale hips as he continued to thrust into him, wanting to find release for himself as well. He slanted his mouth over the Brit's to block his own sound when he came, filling the blond completely. His finger loosened their grip and he pulled out, lying down beside the blond. He noticed the vived red color of his face with a snort.

"Only done that once." The Russian raised an eyebrow and slid onto an arm to look at him. Green eyes looked at him and red lips turned down in a frown. "Back when I was a pirate. Spain and I were tired of fighting and what started out as a chess game turned into sex." He grimaced and rolled his shoulders. "He was more talkative than you." He looked at the large man beside him and rolled onto his side, getting closer. His fingers followed a similar path to the earlier one's, mesmerized by the muscles. "And it was no where near as exciting." The Russian grinned and rolled over the blond, pressing him into the mattress again. He received a seductive smile for the action and words that came out as a purr. What's on the agenda then?"

A

Review if you want.


	2. Day 2

**Scotch is Better Than Vodka**

**a Hetalia fan fiction**

**by hitagashi**

_**Summary: The second day of the deal and Russia is analyzing what England does.**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia and make no money off of these writings. Last I checked I didn't..._

So here I am again. I find the idea of England playing in the snow funny. I'm going to Hell for both this and the song fics I'm gonna write. Really. So are all you Hetalia fan fiction writers. Sometimes I feel bad for the countries. And then I remember... Hell has booze. Rather short chapter.

V  
V  
V

"This is beautiful." The small voice betrayed the awe the blond felt as he walked outside, snow immediately drifting onto him. He giggled as one of the fay danced on some of the snowflakes. He didn't notice Russia standing behind him until he spun in a circle, borrowed scarf and coat twirling around him. He smiled at him, placing his hands behind his back and blushing. "Come play with us, Ivan!" The childish tone made the soviet smile softly and he walked out, brushing a bit of snow off of his ally's hair. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the smaller man's gently, happy with the small giggle he received. His fingers stroked over his face, pulling him in for a slightly deeper kiss as he pulled him up to meet him. Small gloved hands placed themselves gently on his shoulders as the kiss was returned. He pulled him closer, hands pulling him flush against him before he let his mouth separate from the Brit's so he could hold him close.

"You said us, what did you mean?" The blond blushed, realizing he had spoken without meaning to. "Did you mean... 'the fay' as you call them?" He received a small nod and chuckled. "Why be embarrassed? It is rather sweet." Arthur buried his face in Ivan's jacket with a smile. He pulled away to smile up at him.

"Thank you..." He looked at his feet nervously and the taller man let him go, a soft smile on his face as a bright smile lit up Arthur's. He spun around, laughing once more as snow fell onto his face. His green eyes seemed to sparkle in his mirth. "Come play with us Ivan!" His earlier request was repeated and the soviet chuckled, moving out into the white yard and standing close to the blond. "Ivan?" A gloved hand rose up and caressed the Brit's face. As he was leaning in, he heard a shout from the other side of his home. He pulled away quickly, noting the disappointed expression on Arthur's face. As he turned, the smaller of the two caught his sleeve and pulled him down, lips pressing to his softly before they pulled away.

"Russia, we're coming out there!" He stood straight, smiling behind his scarf when he went back to spinning. America was the first to emerge, followed closely by the other allies. Russia nodded at them and England waved before crouching quickly. The others raised an eyebrow and suddenly a snowball hit Ivan in the side of the head. The Brit looked innocently at them when the soviet rounded on him. He giggled softly and threw another one, hitting Alfred in the chest.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, aru." The smooth Chinese voice caught Arthur's attention and soon he hit Yao in the face with a snowball. "What was that for, aru?" Another one hit him and he grinned, bending down and hurling a large snowball at the Brit. He heard a small giggle and soon snowballs were flying left and right, everyone except for Ivan firing against each other. The blond started to fall over after being hit all at once and made a noise before he was caught. Large hands held him by his shoulders and he looked up at the soviet with a blush.

"Ah, sorry about that!" Ivan righted him and stepped back when the other Allies started worrying over him. The blond smiled and stepped back from his friends to turn to the Russian behind him. He smiled behind his scarf and ruffled the Brit's hair.

"Do not worry on it, comrade." A small flush spread on the smaller male's face and he sighed. "Later." He nodded to the others and retreated into his home. Their happy and friendly atmosphere was making him sick. He wanted no part of it. He moved upstairs, closing the door to his room with a resounding click once the merry sounds of before started up again. He sat on the chair he had sat in before, wondering when it would stop.

**--A Few Hours Later--**

"Thanks for checking in on me guys but I'm going to go now!" The other three men smiled at him and waved as he closed the front door. He made sure to lock it before running up the stairs and to Ivan's room. He opened the door slowly, moving inside quietly and closing the door behind him. He pulled off his scarf and jacket, moving quickly over to the soviet as soon as the man looked at him. His face was hidden, expression blank as Arthur stood in front of him. A flush stole the blond's face and he curled his hands into fists.

"Why'd you leave earlier?" The other merely looked at the slightly trembling man with a raised eyebrow. The Brit opened a hand and rubbed his eye with the base of his palm. "I didn't know what to say to them when they asked me what happened last night." The blank gaze softened somewhat and the Englishman dropped his hands to his side. His eyes locked with the soviet's and he slid forward so that he could straddle the man. His legs flexed somewhat and he pressed a kiss to Ivan's nose. "Why did you want me in the first place?"

"Because all other countries will become one with Russia eventually." Green eyes narrowed and he tugged off the light purple scarf the other was wearing. His mouth wasn't set into the teasing smirk his eyes were trying to match and was instead a thin line, anger evident when looking at him. The smaller of the two leaned forward and almost kissed him and then stopped.

"I meant in your bed, you bastard." Purple eyes seemed confused and then lips were pressing against each other, tongue tangling and fingers working at clothing.

"I want to undress you first." The blond blushed and nodded, biting his lip when his pants and boxers were removed. He pressed his ass down, rubbing against the covered erection beneath him. The soviet suppressed a groan at the shameless action. "I don't want to wait." He received a nod and felt the nimble fingers working at his pants. When they opened, the blond's hands pulled his cock out, stroking along it gently before positioning himself over it. Purple eyes widened and he held the pale hips in place. "You will be hurt."

"Don't give a bloody damn." He swatted the hands away and started sliding himself down, flinching at each small advance. The soviet couldn't complain, the tight heat surrounding him making that pointless but when he felt blood starting to trail down he held the man still again.

"Let me." The blond's eyes squeezed shut and he buried his face in the larger man's neck.

"Hurry." His arms held tight around the man's neck as he was slid down, gasping in pain even as he did. He let out a whimper when he was fully seated, thighs clenching and fingers curling. "Move. Move please." The soviet didn't do as the Brit wanted, choosing instead to not do anything. "Ivan." At the subtle rocking of pale hips and the whine of his name, he began to move slowly, thrusting in and out of him in careful movements. He heard the blonds gasps and pleas for more but ignored them in favor of moving slowly. Soon, he started speeding up, going faster and harder into him as much as possible in their position.

"Move with me." The blond nodded, pulling his face away before kissing him hard and moving against the man inside him. He could feel that he wasn't going to last long, not with the way the Russian was moving or with the way he was gently stroking his sides. One final press inside had them both finding their release, still moving as they shared their orgasm. The larger man made to pull out but the blond stopped him.

"Want to stay together...." The larger of the two smiled.

"I took you this way because you fit with me. Your personality and your body both." He received a small kiss from the blond and a giggle.

"You had better be ready to go again."

"Gladly."


	3. Day 3

**Scotch is Better Than Vodka**

**a Hetalia fan fiction**

**by hitagashi**

_**Summary: Ivan is angry at Arthur and takes it out on him physically.**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and make no money off of these writings._

Doo dee do felt like writing Arthur abuse for no reason. And smut. I like smut. I like it a lot. By the way. This was pulled out of my ass at 4 in the god damn morning.

--=--

Arthur woke up slowly, eyes shifting slightly in annoyance as light danced over his eyelids. He shifted his leg and winced. He wasn't used to sex with Ivan yet, he knew that much, but it didn't stop him from liking it. He blushed when he thought of the previous day. He had been very gentle with him the entire day after the first time. It was a nice change from his usual self. He smiled softly and pressed closer to the warm spot Ivan had been in not long before. He heard the door open and looked over at the soviet as he entered, usual clothes on and usual veiled angry in place.

"Er... good morning?" His words were tired even as he moved to sit up. He winced once he did and looked at the other, noting how he seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

"Good morning." His words were sharp and the Brit flinched, wondering what he had done to anger the other. He moved to the edge of the bed, wrapping himself in the blankets and looking up at the other nation. "What is it?" He blinked at the question and looked down, lips forming words he couldn't seem to figure out how to say.

_SMACK!_

The blond's eyes widened and he pressed his hand briefly to his cheek, eyes widening at the sight before him. The Russian had hit him and pulled off his scarf once the smaller male had been distracted by the fact he had. His mouth was turned down, his eyes cold and whole form seeming larger. Arthur had known it would be a matter of time before he angered the other but the fact that he had angered him without knowing and was being _hit_ because of it scared him. So did the way the other was advancing, slow like a predator with its prey and every bit as deadly. He looked up at the other and furrowed his eyebrows, blushing at the fact that he could hardly move still. Ivan leaned down, nose touching Arthur's before grabbing him forcefully by the hair and pressing his palm to the base of Arthur's back. The blond gasped out in shock, the pain from what they had done the day before causing him to bend backwards with his eyes wide.

"You would look beautiful covered in blood you know." His words weren't heard by the blond whose mind was focused on the pain shooting through him as the hand that was at his back moved away only to land solidly on his stomach in a fist. He coughed at the impact and the Russian drew his fist back, striking at the blond's ribs three times before a loud snap echoed. Tears were rolling down pale cheeks and he sputtered when the third blow was repeated and the snap echoed _twice_ loudly.

His hair was pulled on harder and a hand wrapped around his throat. Ivan squeezed with a malicious smile, chuckling when the other tried to gasp in air. Finding he couldn't, the blond started shaking, sobbing becoming impossible with the lack of oxygen. The large hand let go, not holding so tightly but still pressing into the skin. Arthur bit his lip, trying to keep in his noise when yet another blow landed on his face. The vicious man's finger tried to pull his lip away from his teeth but only caused the smaller to bite into it harder. He chuckled and moved his mouth to the blond's neck, biting down harshly where he had two days prior, causing the other to gasp in sharply and let out a hoarse sob.

"D-don't...." He didn't get to say anymore, instead crying out sharply when the hand that had been in his hair pushed him back and flat onto the bed. The one that had inflicted pain on him opened the large coat quickly, practiced fingers working over fastening and buttons easily. He recovered enough from his haze to see a glove being pulled off with teeth. He tried to move away but instead ended up hissing in pain when a large hand was pressed to his broken rib. The hand without the glove moved slowly over his thigh but all he could focus on was the pain of his ribs. His eyes shot open when a single finger pushed inside him and he kicked the other square in the chest. The larger male merely grunted and pressed it in as far as he could. He began moving it slowly in and out of the blond and ignored his thrashing and sobbing.

"Does he touch you like this in your dreams?" His words startled the blond, as did the sudden abrupt stop in pressure and movement. "Does he?"

"Who?" His voice was strained with the pain he was feeling. "The hell are you...?"

"America. Alfred. Does he touch you sweetly and tell you he loves you in your dreams?" The blond's back bowed up even though pain shot through him when he did once the Russian crooked his finger. "Does he?" His repeated words broke through the pain and (sudden) arousal.

"D-doesn't touch me like this." The finger stilled and the other listened intently to the words coming forth. "I...." He squirmed a bit when the finger crooked enough to just _brush_ his prostate and whined at the pressure returning to his rib. "I dream about...." His words were cut off by a pair of cold lips pressed to his rib and he blushed brightly. "dream about...." He hissed when pressure was again applied to his wound. Ivan kept playing it over in his mind, again and again, what had happened that morning.

_The blond pressed closer to the Russian in his sleep and clung desperately to him. Then just as the other was about to embrace him he heard a whisper of a word._

"_A-Alfred?" He heard it louder and abruptly sat up, pulling away and walking to the door. He wouldn't stay there if even in his dreams he wished for someone else. **Had he stayed he would have seen the blond blush brightly in his sleep and smile.**_

"_**My Ivan." **_

"What do you dream about? Do you dream about him preparing you gently? How about him moving slowly in and out of you?" The blond blushed at his words and shook his head. The finger inside was joined slowly by another, spreading as it moved into him and both began to press against the blond's prostate. "What is it you dream about that makes you say his name?"

"Haaa..." His reply was a word that melted into a moan when the fingers inside stroked almost lovingly inside him. Green eyes locked on lavender ones and pale hands reached up shakily, fear evident in his actions. Slim fingers stroked his face, his cheeks, lips, ears, chin, forehead and especially his nose "You." His word was quiet and had the other not moved his face closer to the blond's he would have been able to hear it.

"What?" His eyes had widened and he regarded the sweetly smiling face of the Brit cautiously.

"H-he walked in on... me and you." His words were quiet still but Ivan could hear him perfectly fine and he felt his shoulders sag. The soft hands on his face cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer. "My Ivan." His lips were brushed by the other male's and his eyes widened even as the blond's closed.

"You forgive me so easily for hurting you? For breaking your bone? For bruising you?" He received a nod and crooked his fingers, earning a small gasp. "Would you have forgiven me had I raped you?"

"Wouldn't be rape." His fingers were still shaky but Ivan recognized it as pain and made to move away but the other merely pressed a bit with his fingers, smile widening and face moving forward to press feather light kisses to his mouth.

"You are too injured to continue." The blond rolled his eyes and forcefully pulled the larger man down and over him so he could rest against the bed. "You are--"

"Too injured to continue?" He rolled his eyes again and spread his legs before wrapping them around the soviet's waist, pulling him closer. "I've been hurt worse before. Hell I've been almost killed before." He squirmed a bit when the other pressed a tiny bit closer. As he opened his mouth to say something else, cold lips covered his own and Ivan's tongue pressed into his mouth, sliding along his own until he responded in full. He tried to press his body up but was pushed down by a hand on his stomach.

"You will do nothing." His words were forced out, mind hazing over even as he tried to speak in English. The blond nodded though he ended up disobeying when the fingers inside started moving again, his back arching up even with the strong hand pressing him down. The soviet stopped and the Brit was pushed back again, hand pressing to his chest where the broken rib wasn't in the way. His fingers started moving again, stroking inside of Arthur faster. He inserted another one, chuckling at the way the smaller took to squirming and gasping. His fingers worked in and out of the other, curling and stretching while the other tried to press up and touch him.

"Can't...." The soviet cut him off easily by crooking his fingers and then pulling them out. The Brit's cock twitched in disappointment, he was so ready to release. "Please." Ivan knew what he wanted, pulling off his other glove before quickly taking off his clothes, merely pulling down his pants and boxers so that they draped around his thighs. Just as the smaller was about to speak, he felt the other rub against his entrance in a teasing motion. He let out a long moan and tried to pull the larger male closer by pressing his feet into his lower back.

"_Beautiful_." The uttered word made the blond blink in confusion. He felt the Russian's mouth on his own and then he was inside of him, keeping him pressed down as he filled him to the brim. He pulled out and pulled his mouth away at the same time, grabbing Arthur's wrists with one hand and pinning them above his head while he pressed in slowly. He began moving in and out, keeping up a fast pace that had the Brit squirming and moaning. He couldn't help but grin when he looked down at Arthur. Ivan's fingers twitched before he let go of the Brit's wrists. Russia's thrusts slowed, powerful movements causing England to cry out.

"I-Ivaaaaaaaaaaan...." His name came out in a long moan, the smaller male's mouth hanging open after due to him driving hard and fast into the willing body beneath him. He sped up again, leaning over his angel and pressing his lips to the pale neck. His tongue traced over the now fresh wound of his bite mark just as he delivered the final thrust that had England crying out and grabbing his shoulders. The muscles surrounding Ivan's cock twitched, constricting him even as he kept pushing in. He bit down on Arthur's neck in the same place as before, teeth barely biting into the skin. With a final press in the soviet felt himself release as well. He removed his hand from the blond's chest, falling carefully to his right and closing his eyes. E slid himself out after a moment, arm pulling the smaller man closer again. He was careful not to hurt the man and sighed.

"We should... get you to a hospital." The blond laughed somewhat and shook his head. The soviet furrowed his eyebrows and frowned deeply. Warm hands stroked his cheeks gently and the Brit closed his eyes when he smiled.

"Just wrap my ribs up and I'll be fine. It works usually." He grinned at the way the soviet seemed to contemplate it and stroked his thumb over his bottom lip. "Trust me." The Russian sighed and wrapped his scarf around Arthur's neck as well. He could tell the other wanted to ask a question but seemed unsure of how to word it. The thumb on his lip stroked idly as his face moved closer to Ivan's. His mouth pressed to the soviet's and their lips moved together, the kiss chaste and gentle. When the blond pulled away he smiled up at the other with a blush. His hands dropped to the larger male's chest and bunched in the scarf hanging down there.

"What is it?" England looked at the other country with a small small and shifted somewhat.

"Just thinking." Russia raised an eyebrow and stroked his index finger over the Brit's collar bone. He closed his eyes, knowing that the blunt blond would say it regardless. "Kind of happy you got jealous is all. But..." He rested closer to his lover and frowned softly. "It made me a bit angry that you thought I'd dream about sleeping with that wanker." A chuckle greeted his words and he raised an eyebrow at his soviet partner. "I'm being serious."

"I know. Rest." He wrapped the blankets around them, watching as the Briton's eyes closed and sleep washed over him.


	4. Day 4

**Scotch is Better Than Vodka**

**a Hetalia fan fiction**

**by hitagashi**

_**Summary: You'd think they would know how to keep their hands off of each other.**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and make no money off of these writings._

_Been a while huh? Well, I had planned for this to end with just fondling but I decided it needed smut. Enjoy._

_There might be a big jump in style change here. Forgot this was still on my computer. ;A;_

_Update as of 02 December 2010: I have an outline for this story and hope to finish it soon. Sorry for the wait. Going to have a bonus chapter up too with my fan character that represents the Cheslovian Republic._

_

* * *

_

A blush spread over the Brit's face when he was pulled into the Russian's lap and had the large and tan scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked over his shoulder at the man and sighed with a roll of his eyes. He crossed his arms and settle comfortably against the soviet's broad chest. Strong arms encircled his waist loosely and the larger male's water pipe was draped across his knees.

"Well today we have to talk about the... war with..." America adjusted his glasses when he looked over at the two. His stomach lurched a bit and he lost his self assured grin. Arthur was blushing and Ivan's mouth was directly by his ear, the two seeming to be in their own little world. The illusion was shattered when the blond slammed his foot onto the Russian's under the table.

"Stop touching me there you git!" He twisted his body around a bit to push away the other male's face with his hands before turning completely sideways in his lap. He let out a curse in Gaelic when Russia poked him in his ribs gently and glared at the other man.

"Stop your moving or you will injure yourself further." A blush spread over his face and ears at that and he punched Russia square in the jaw. The man blinked at him in confusion and then raised an eyebrow.

"Whose fault is it that I'm like this?"

"I don't feel sorry about it." His hand lifted one of the Brit's legs and slid down it slowly. A few of the others in the room blushed (including the Brit) while some made to stand (namely Belarus). His hand stopped at the back of the smaller male's knee and his face pressed close to Arthur's.

"Not in front of everyone." His hands pressed firmly to the other man's forehead and mouth and his left foot pushed his arm away. His green eyes seemed soft even though his actions were angry and the look was matched in the soviet's eyes. His fingers danced over the underside of his knee before pulling away and then forcing the blond to face forward again.

"Uh... right." He ignored the way his stomach twisted angrily and how he couldn't help but feel angry towards the Russian. "What was..." He turned his head to the side again in time to see the Russian press a kiss to Arthur's neck. Purple eyes looked up at America, a challenging glare in them. The blond felt his stomach clench when he realized he knew.

"Perhaps we should end the meeting for today, aru. It appears Alfred is not feeling well and that Arthur and Ivan want some alone time." He nodded to himself, easily connecting the two issues. "If we do not I fear Alfred will faint and those two will have at each other on the table, aru." He stood, walking around the table and grabbing America by his wrist. Russia and England looked at each other, the sandy haired male lifting the blond up and carrying him away.

"Why the hell is China so damn smart about things?" He huffed, idly kicking his legs as Russia carried him up the stairs.

"I am thinking it comes from being over four thousand years old." Nodding, the blond pulled his companion closer by his scarf, lips brushing along lips with a smile. Russia was being gentle, being kind with the way he was treating the Brit. He ran soothing lips over the bruise forming on Ivan's chin, over the nearly black mark left by his fist. "You have quite an arm."

"I should. I was the terror of the seas you know." He was proud of that even now, even when he was so much smaller a nation than then. Turkey often compared him to a storm, there was time between the attacks but when the overwhelming calm came everyone went to hide, went to the shelter of their homes.

And then he would strike. He would strike and kill and glorify in the destruction and prosperity that seemed to come from a well timed battle. As horrible as it sounded, he adored being bathed in the blood of his enemies during a battle. It gave him a thrill. And he remembered, vaguely, from so many centuries passed, Russia in his glory.

Dearest and most beloved Russia.

What a sight to behold! Bathed in the blood of his enemies, dancing around their pathetic frames and laughing as if he had no care in the world. He had seen this man, not just him as a country, but as a man, look free and ecstatic while raining crushing blows on his enemies even when they ran and begged for mercy. There was none. Mercy in war was for the weak.

"I quite miss those days. Things were simpler. I was... still myself." Ah, such a sordid topic. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his heart as he remembered those days, he trailed gentle kisses over the bruise on Russia's chin, smirking when the man's steps faltered. Then, just as suddenly as he had started kissing his Ivan's chin, he was dropped onto the large bed he had come to share with the soviet.

"Spread your legs. Raise your hips." Green eyes were on purple when he did as told, settling onto the pillows placed beneath his hips. Fingers were carefully running over his legs before they settled on pulling his pants away from him, sliding on to take off his boxer briefs and then finishing it all by taking his shirt away.

"Ivan?" It was odd, this gentleness, even after last night, Russia hadn't been this gentle. His mouth opened to say something else when all the breath left him. The other nation was stripping, stripping and doing it slowly. It was odd, how graceful such a large man could be, but then, he was beautiful too.

"You are almost healed. Interesting." Nodding, England shifted gently against the nudging head. It was really odd, really confusing to him. He could tell he was in that calm before the metaphorical storm and it was making him impatient. He wanted more. And then Russia was sliding into him, gentle, easing in with small and shallow thrusts. It had England's world reeling, had his eyes closing as he felt oddly comforted at the sensation.

"Ah... deep..." It was a quiet murmur from the usually loud and brash man but it had Russia pushed into him as far as possible, happy Arthur appreciated it. He was in the mood to be gentle. Some of the snow had melted in Russia that day. Not a lot. But enough to where he could feel his smiles becoming sunnier and less biting. Rocking gently in the man, Russia kept his pace slow as he watched the reddened face of his ally.

It would be later, when England had finally fallen asleep, that he would wonder if a country (male or female) could get pregnant.

For now, he was happy with keeping up a teasing pace even when he and England were close to completion. He sped up just enough to make the island nation keen but never enough to make him scream as he was prone to. No, this time he wanted his sweetly furious **Arthur** to gasp and moan the whole time. He wanted him to be satisfied and to keep the veneer of silence in his home. So when the blond pulled him into a soft kiss, as if trying to force the man into keeping them both quiet, Ivan readily replied. His mouth was moving gently against the blond's, swallowing up his little noises of pleasure. And when he came, the storm was beginning to rage, the blood so dormant, was beginning to boil.

Later, when England was asleep, when he was dreaming, Russia would wonder why the moment he and Russia found their release, England's eyes had flashed the same way Russia's often did when he was creating bloody patterns on his snow.


	5. Day 5

******Title:** Scotch is Better Than Vodka  
******Fandom: **Hetalia  
******Author:** hitagashi  
******Warnings/Spoilers:** Creepy ass red!England.  
******Pairing:** Russia/England  
******Rating:** M  
******Summary:** Day 5: A confrontation with Belarus makes the storm rage.  
******Disclaimer:**I do not own Hetalia and make no money off of these writings.  
******Note:** More updates, Y/Y? I mean, with a chorus of moar, who am I to refuse? Oh yeah, something that's been asked of me by a friend or two, I don't do A/N's in the parentheses. Those things in there are just little additions that come with the character thinking a bit. Also, I adore Belarus, but I would think Arthur wouldn't. Might not update for a couple days more guys. Got ECON to get out of the way. EDIT: Holy cow, sorry it was all bold, FF.N screwed it up.

Stretching as he woke up, England looked over at Russia as he slept. The grace he had observed before was seen in a still shot, white-gold locks framing his face and white eyelashes casting shadows on his pale skin. Shifting his leg as he was starting to do daily, he smiled at the delicious burn but even more at the feeling of Ivan still nestled within him. It made him happy to know he pleased the man enough to have him fall asleep like that. With a smile, he rolled the larger nation onto his back and settled comfortably into a sitting position. The feeling of arousal was beginning to wash over him and so he shifted a bit, waiting for Russia to wake with his eyes closed.

"Impatient this morning, Arthur?" Eyes snapping open to meet violet, he watched the amusement on his friend's face. Shifting again, he felt the way the man beneath him pushed up and into him gently, hardening second by second.

"Yeah." Rising up and almost off, he slid back down slowly, a low moan working out of his throat. It was slow, not gentle in the way it had been the day previous but still the underlying shade of it was there. His legs spread wider than they had been, spread apart so slowly by large and gentle hands. He felt them move up, felt them begin to trace over old battle wounds and more recent ones from various confrontations.

"_Beautiful._" He remembered, vaguely, a time when he spoke fluent Russian and then the word fit. Eyes wide as he looked down at the soviet, he flushed, speeding up just a bit at the idea of being consider beautiful. He had always been a bit vain. He was no longer the great nation he had been and to be praised like that in any way was a sure-fire way to get him to be happy.

"_Mine._" It was quiet, spoken in the language so closely based off of German for what was he if not a country born of Germania. Purple eyes were looking hazy, pleasure clear on Russia's face as England moved on him. "_Mine. My _Ivan._ My Russia. No one else can have you._" Those beautiful eyes he so adored were showing the larger man's confusion. He smiled, rolling his hips just so, gasping as his lover thrust up with him.

And then the door was slammed open.

Extremely irritated at being denied his release, England didn't even question it when Russia pulled him close and wrapped a blanket around his frame. Green eyes looked over at the intruder and snorted in derision when they landed on Belarus. Of all the times she could be there, it was now. Ivan pulled him off of his member, running gentle hands over his bottom when he tried to cling to him.

"Brother! What's this? A negotiation?" There was the sweet smile and flashing teeth that scared people but Russia, having just woken up and been interrupted during sex of all things, wasn't all that intimidated. Besides, he had England with him, England, who was becoming irate. England, whose eyes turned the color of blood and who had spoken to him in a language long since dead.

"No it bloody well was not!" Ah, there it was, that anger that had always drawn the Russian to the blond like a moth to a flame. Sighing and standing, Russia placed the spitfire little country on the bed before looking around for his pants. When he found them, he slid them on, going to his wardrobe to find one of his shirts to give to England. On the way over to the bed, he picked up England's boxer briefs so that England wouldn't be so naked.

"England, we should explain should we not?" A sharp nod came then even as England let the large nation slide his underpants on. When he put on the shirt he was dwarfed, something Russia had obviously done on purpose. There was a sigh when he stood, wincing a bit at the strain walking was beginning to have after so much... fun with the soviet.

"Fine." It was edgy, the way his voice snapped out as he walked down the stairs and to the sitting room, clinging tightly to Russia's arm (though it was more for support than anything). When they settled onto the couch, the only thing that was keeping England from jumping into that amazingly warm lap was the fact that the couch was heaven on his ass.

"So... explain, yes, brother?" A small chorus of marriage met England's ears and he grimaced, disgusted by the sound. It was like nails on a chalk board. And suddenly he was confused because there as Ivan, speaking quickly and sharply in Russian. The bit of Russian he remembered didn't begin to cover half of what was being said.

"Kol kol kol... you do not get it Natalia." Now that was odd, Russia rarely shifted out of a single language in the middle of a conversation.

"No I don't brother! Explain it to me!" There was a sigh and then just as England was about to ask what she was on about, his question was answered. "Why is it you would rather be with this thing instead of me?"

"Pardon? Thing? Rude much?" It was a quiet scoff and venomous eyes turned to him. She advanced on him a bit, obviously hoping to scare him.

Ha.

"I'm sorry lass but you must remember, I'm not the one constantly prattling on and on about marriage to him nor do I harass him when he obviously wants to be left to his own devices. I hardly see how that would lead a person to adoring one." Those eyes that struck fear in other countries were wide in disbelief as he spoke, fingers outstretched to do something to him. Sneering, he felt himself losing the bit of patience he had.

And the storm broke out in choruses of thunder, flashes of lightning.

"Let me explain it like this, you've got no right barging in and demanding an explanation. Especially not so damned early in the morning." His eyes flashed that dangerous red once, twice before staying that color. He sneered at the woman across the table, watched her back away a bit, even felt the minute shifting of Russia away from him. And it was noisy, so noisy in his head. He could hear the screams of so many people in the past and it drove him to be more angry. But his eyes, no matter how many he killed, no matter how jaded he became in his long existence, his eyes would always be bright red, like that color no one can possible mimic truly on the color wheel. Standing slowly, carefully, any pain he had felt forgotten, Arthur seemed every bit the terror he had been as a pirate, as an empire.

"I can do what I like." It was quiet, held none of the power so many expected of her. And it brought a laugh, a cruel and dark laugh that had, once upon a time, had people trembling in fear or for those even weaker than that, pissing themselves. Ah yes, Turkey was right, he was quite like a storm, his wrath was often devastating to those on the receiving end.

"My dear, I have lived far too long to believe your words. I can see a lie a mile away... and I can smell fear as easily as a blood hound can smell its prey." Walking around the table, Arthur stopped when he stood right in front of her, hands cupping her face and pulling her close. Ah, here it was, what he always had done so many years past. His lips brushed along her forehead, a mockery of the gentle touch of a parent even as his fingers pressed hard into her skin. "And you, silly little Belarus, are so frightened that it makes my blood boil in a way that reminds me of when I would beat people to death with my fists."

"Y-You're insane!" There was a cackle as she was let go, red eyes trailing along her body in a way that seemed to be appraising.

"Aye. Very much so. I have been for many centuries." And with that, he watched her run away, watched her leave as quickly as she had arrived. So he turned to his lover, his obviously disturbed lover that was sitting n the couch in a posture that reminded him of a position Germania once took after his first brush with what the blond had called The Red. Though that was only a botched version of it.

"Well then. You almost broke my sister's jaw..." There was a head tilt and England slid over to Russia, straddling him and smirking.

"I fractured it. At least that in any case." Purple eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion as he was pushed onto his back. "Now, I was interrupted earlier and that just isn't nice. Or acceptable." And then the blond was kissing Russia, sweetly at first and then hard, teeth biting and nails scratching along his sides. He could taste the coppery blood in his mouth from his bruised lips but didn't bother doing anything about it. What he was focusing on instead was the fact that the scratches that England was making were bleeding. It was like the smaller nation had claws, like he was a demon.

"Arthur?"

"Oh, so now I'm Arthur? Not just England?" He was purring, red eyes wide and teeth showing in his smile. That they were red was what had him backing into the couch a bit, bucking up and nearly unseating his comrade. "Huh. You're not scared. Odd, that. What do you say, pet? Gonna lie back and let me have my way?"

"You will not be entering me, Arthur, no matter what the circumstance." It was cold and the people in Russia felt the chill in the air. A smile greeted his words and a subtle rocking of the red eyed nations hips.

"I can live with that. But if you try to wrest control from me I might get mean." There was a tutting motion and noise and son Russia pants were pushed away from his hips, down to his thighs and left there. And then that odd purring sound rumbled from England again and while Russia would have loved to analyze it, he supposed he could wait and ask later. Rolling his eyes for a moment, he pillowed his head on his arms, watching with interest as England looked him over.

This was fascinating.

As was the look of concentration on the blond's face as he took off his underwear and began to align himself into position. When the man began sinking onto him, Russia let out a small moan, missing the look of almost predatory satisfaction that came across England's face when he seated himself fully. The similarity between this and their earlier position wasn't lost on the large nation, not lost at all.

"_I want your heart. I want you to think about only me. Not too much to ask is it_?" The question came out in the middle of a thrust, came out and Russia still couldn't understand it. He held onto his own hair to keep from reaching down and grabbing England's hips. He so wanted to slam England down onto him but he had been asked to play fair.

So he did.

It was killing him but he did it. Still, he was meeting the Brit thrust for thrust, hips canting up and into England quickly. Fingernails dug into his sides as England sped up, thrusts becoming awkward, becoming sloppy. And soon Russia could feel England finishing off, moaning low in the back of his throat, keening in desire. Sliding off of Russia's still hard cock, he smirked down at the other nation, getting off of him and kneeling in front of the couch. The message to sit up on the couch was clear and so Russia did just that, watching as England took his pants away. Mouth immediately finding Russia's member, England took it in as far as he could without gagging, red eyes closing in his bliss.

The storm was breaking.

He could feel Russia pushing in and out of his mouth slowly, obviously not wanting to choke him. With an eye roll, England let his throat relax, taking Russia in further. It was an amazing sensation, Russia moving gently even though England knew he was holding back. And then he was being forced to swallow, tongue curved on the underside of Ivan's cock, mouth closed around the base as he sucked and hummed. When he pulled away, he licked at the stray bits that he hadn't swallowed and smirked up at the Russian, eyes nearly glowing in their glee.

**"**Time to get back to bed then?" It was sad quietly, purple eyes watching red warily. When he was hoisted up and into strong arms, England merely smiled, kicking his legs as a child would on the way up the stairs. Once in bed, England expected them to be at it again like usual, but instead found himself forced to lie down, a very exhausted looking Russia looming over him. "It is nine in the morning, we can do this more later. When I have slept." A forlorn sigh and nod was his answer before his arms wrapped around Arthur from behind. England pressed back against him as much as possible, falling asleep to the chorus of so many voices in his head.

Russia knew, more than any other, what was wrong with his small lover. He had spoken many times to Germania about it, spoken about what he went through. Germania was wise, knew all along this would one day happen. Still, even though the train of thoughts was interesting, Ivan was falling asleep, a similar chorus of voices that England was suffering through pounding in his head in that rhythmic way his did, lulling him into a deep sleep.


End file.
